For nearly an Age, I was broken. Not entirely without use or capable of inflicting harm; certainly Isildur was able to use just the very bit of me to the world's great advantage. But for generations now, I have been hauled from one end of Middle-earth to the other, a wreck that served only as a reminder of what had been and what could be again - someday.

But they took me - those Elves who saw to my fashioning so long ago - and they have remade me. A new name I wear: Andúril.